


You Are My Salvation

by Fangirlingmanaged



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Castiel Feels, Dean Angst, Dean Bears The Mark of Cain, Dean Feels, Dean Winchester Feels, Demon Dean Winchester, Episode: s09e23 Do You Believe in Miracles?, Fix-It, Happy Ending, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, Knight of Hell Dean, M/M, Mark of Cain, Pain, Post-Episode: s09e23 Do You Believe In Miracles?, S9E10, all the feels, crowley is a douche, demon tablet, just like all the Dean angst, like a lot of pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 02:19:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1671092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirlingmanaged/pseuds/Fangirlingmanaged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel will turn Dean back. No matter what happens, he will, because His Dean is still in there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Are My Salvation

**Author's Note:**

> I have all the finale feels. Don't even touch me.   
> -Gabbs

Castiel knows he’s worrying them. He’s seen it in the way Sam throws side glances at him, in the way Hannah lingers in the doorway sometimes while he’s looking at a map; he sees the way he might be losing himself ( _obsessing_ ) in the way Metatron gives him smug little smirks when he goes in to interrogate him. there’s no way in which he can stop it, though, there is no way in which he can clamp down in all the feelings coursing inside of him because—he can’t even think of it, can’t allow himself to dwell on everything he’s feeling.

They have a hunt now; it’s been going on for half a year already and they are finally breaking through to the compound. They’re in Lebanon again; they brought the angels back and made head quarters out of the bunker because they had no other place to go. Metatron is safely trapped in the dungeon, tied down with the same chains they used for Crowley because apparently they work for every monster on earth. They cannot move from their position, and it’s not because they can’t use the fake IDs and stolen credit cards (because Sam had taught the new angels all they needed to know and Castiel’s older followers already knew how to navigate the complicated Winchester system) no, the reason they can’t move from Lebanon is simple. That’s where the problem they were hunting was.

_Problem_ , that’s the way Cas has to think about it, _him_ , now. As the next bump in the road to get to Heaven, to finally fix everything they have broken; he has to get rid of this _problem_ in order to finally atone for their sins. But he knows, deep inside, that if this goes on for much longer he will not be able to think of it, _him_ , as a problem anymore. He’s close to cracking; he feels it every time it is harder for him to get out of his chair, each time he gets a lump in his throat when he wanders into the garage and he finds the impala covered in tarp, he feels it every time he gets a whiff of pie from the kitchen and he feels like throwing up. This _problem_ needs to end now before he loses the finally wisps of will he has left.

************

The first few weeks after capturing Metatron, things had been bad, to say the least. When Crowley refused to answer Sam’s summoning, Cas hadn’t had the heart to tell the younger Winchester that Crowley was the one being to be exempt from the summoning rule, the younger mad had been inconsolable. He’s heard prayers for eons, he has visited suffering souls for centuries, Castiel has trudged through hell, but none of that pain had hurt him the way Samuel Winchester’s suffering had. To see him, every day, with all that defeat and pain… it cut Castiel deeply, on top of everything he was feeling, seeing the young Winchester that helpless.

They didn’t get back on their feet for weeks. Sam, (Castiel understood in those moments why _he_ used to call him Sammy, in those moments the younger Winchester was nothing but a lost little boy looking for his big brother) wouldn’t let the bottle down for more than a couple hours when he slept. Castiel had put Hannah in charge of the younger Winchester, making sure he ate, and bathed and slept. He had gotten better once they had pinpointed their location but not by much. even now that they were so close, there were times when all of them could hear things breaking from Sam’s room.

Castiel, in the first three weeks or so, had been useless. He hated to think about himself that way, he had been useless one too many times, but he hadn’t had the will to fight. The drinking-a-liquor-store incident had repeated itself thrice, he had made daily visitations to Metatron in the dungeon; he had destroyed and recreated the Impala more than once. He hadn’t seen an end to the grief and heartbreak; because that’s what it was. No matter how many times he had tried to deny himself of the fact, he was completely lost on Dean Winchester. He remembers the first few weeks, how he had felt when he thought his human was dead. Remembers holing himself in one of Metatron’s rooms, trying to tame the storm inside him. Then came Sam’s phone call.

“C-cas.”

“Sam?” his voice had been so unused; he had refused to speak to anyone for days. “I—“

“I don’t know… I didn’t know who else to call, but… I need help.”

Castiel knew he owed it to _him_ , _his charge_ , to take care of the younger Winchester. “Anything, Sam, anything you need.”

“I can’t find Dean,” Sam says and Cas actually pulls his phone from his ear, thinking he has heard him wrong. He still has some of his “mojo” so he decides to fly over to wherever Sam is. He finds him at the bunker, with his hands braced on the table and his head hanging low.

“Sam,” he says quietly and places his hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Sam, I think you should go to sleep.”

This angers him, and he pushes Castiel away roughly. He can see the glasses and empty bottles on the table, and he begins to worry that maybe Sam isn’t completely lucid. A shower and a few hours sleep might be required, at least, that’s what _he_ did when he was hung over. He curses himself internally, he can’t keep thinking of _him_ or he will break down again. So he tries to grab for Sam again but the young man staggers away from him.

“No, Cas, can’t you see this is important? I left him, I left him on the bed and he was—he wasn’t breathing. He was s’pposed to be dead b-but he ain’t there. Cas, he ain’t there anymore. He—he’s gone and I don’ know, I don’ know where t’look for him.” he starts crying then, the type of crying all Winchesters do. Castiel has seen millions of humans cry, but the Winchesters had never done any of the awful and slightly disgusting things some humans do when they cry. No, all Sam does is let the tears stream down his cheeks. Somehow, it is still more potent and painful than any other type of crying he has ever seen.

“Okay, Sam, okay,” he says and he finally coaxes him into sitting down. He looks up at the angel with his eyes swimming in lost. Sam has always had a dull aura, not like _his_ , but now it is even darker. Hopelessness grips the angel again as he tries to find something, a word or a gesture, to help this broken human. He can’t think of anything, he is not _him_ , so he decides to do what he knows best. He focuses on the mission. “When did you realize he was missing?”

“I don’ know, really, I was, _am_ , drunk out of my mind. I never g-got it, ya know, why he drank so much. But now, God, now—“ he seemed to get lost in his thoughts and Castiel had to snap him back to attention. If _he_ wasn’t dead, there was a way. There was always a way. “Yeah, yeah he was… I dunno, like… two days after you took Metatron. He wasn’t there anymore and I’ve looked but… I don’ know where he is. I can’t—“ Castiel put a hand on his shoulder, awkwardly, and tried to sooth him as best he could.

He couldn’t deny the relief, whatever had happened to _him_ at least he was still walking. He was still alive. They had to find a way. They had gone to his room, the last place where Sam had seen him. His relief quickly turned to panic as he smelled the sulfur, there was only one being who could have been there to take _him_. They start from there, Sam showers and sleeps for a while as Castiel tries to make a plan.

*******************

Everything comes to a head three months after that, and it is when they are least expecting it. They are both together on this now, Sam finds the suspicious cases and Castiel commands the other angels. He hates it, but he would do anything for _him_ even if he can’t even say his name without breaking down. So they are walking down a dark alley, looking for yet another demon nest. They refuse to believe what has been told to them so far, that Crowley rules hell and is planning to go “topside” and make humanity a feast-for-all for the demons. Most importantly, they refuse to believe that _he_ is helping the King of Hell. That _he_ has been named Knight of Hell, Gatekeeper. They won’t allow themselves to dwell on that. All they know is that they have to find him and that they have to fix him.

Everything is quiet; Sam walks ahead of him with a flashlight in one hand and the Colt pistol in the other. Cas won’t admit to it, but from the moment he starts to walk that hallway he knows that he is danger. He has to keep himself from summoning his blade, but he won’t go in armed. He won’t let _him_ hurt him; not for his sake but because the other won’t forgive himself if Castiel is hurt. It is an unspoken agreement between them, and Castiel will not break it. The potent odor of sulfur hits him suddenly, and he is about to warn Sam when the younger Winchester gets slammed into a wall and falls unconscious.

Castiel stares in horror at the prone body on the floor, and then raises his eyes expecting a hoard of demons. Or at the very least, he expects Crowley himself to be there to mock them. But he finds neither of those things, instead he sees _him_. Or at least his body, that’s what he’s seeing, six-feet-two which he had crafted to perfection. He sees the dirty blond hair he had duplicated from scratch, all sixty-seven freckles which he had replaced perfectly, that bowed mouth that he had spent innumerable seconds looking at… he sees all of him and fears that he has lost him.

This… creature before him isn’t the man he loves, and he realizes that with dread as soon as their eyes meet. They are, technically, the same. They are forest green freckled with gold, but they are not warm or inviting, no, they are cold. Hard. They are impenetrable emerald and it hits him like a blow to his grace, he begins to fear that perhaps they are too late. maybe… maybe he has already lost him.

“Some of the boys kept commin’ back sayin’ an angel was getting his feathers all ruffled, looking for me,” his lips curl into a cruel smile. It’s the same voice, rougher perhaps, but it is the voice that had told Castiel they were family, that he needed him. It is the voice that used to pray to him in adversity. He can’t stand to listen to that voice and know that it is mocking him.

“Dean,” he had tried to keep his voice from reflecting his pain, he had, but he has never been able to hide anything from his human. “We must talk.”

“You and I got nothin’ to talk about. You and I are enemies, have always been, angel. Run along now, ‘fore I go an’ hurt you ‘cause your god knows I want to,” he smirks again.

“Dean… this isn’t you. You must see that. Working with Crowley? When has that lead to any good?” he pleads, he will not deny it, but right now he will do anything to get Dean Winchester back.

“He gave me an offer I couldn’t refuse. Think ‘bout it, Cas, everythin’ I damn well want to get. I get free reign on the souls in hell, I am made their god… really, angel, how did you ever expect me to say no?”

Despite his instincts screaming at him not to, Castiel approaches Dean. He is disgusted with himself for thinking it, but even bloodied and bony with a demon face, Dean Winchester is beautiful. He grabs for his arm, brings him closer and doesn’t pay attention to the cruel smirk gracing his face. “Listen. To. Me, this isn’t you. It has never been. I _know_ you, Dean Winchester. You are not meant to be this… this abomination. You are better, good, Dean, you are _pure_. Please, _open your eyes_!”

He isn’t quite sure how it happens, human Dean would never be able to manipulate him against his will this way, but suddenly his back is slammed into the nearest wall. He groans under his breath, but it only seems to fuel the hatred in Dean’s face. He closes his eyes for a bit, and when he opens them again they are solid, inky black. The eyes of a demon. “This open enough for ya, _angel_?” he sneers into his face, and pushes him against the wall once more.

Castiel is left speechless. He had tried to prepare himself for a confrontation, for an argument with an angry Dean, but not this. Not this level of contempt and cruelty, he had not prepared himself to be stared at with so much hatred from the man he loves. Any platitudes he had prepared, any emotional speech to get _his Dean_ back vanishes from his mind and lips. All he can do is stare into those inky pools of dark and he is lost. It hurts more than losing his grace did, it is literally as if his essence has been burn away with acid, and all he can do is try to stare the beautiful green back into those eyes. Dean closes his eyes, and then they are green again.

“Run along, and take pretty boy there with ya. I don’t want to see you ‘round here again, or I will kill you. The time of the angels is over, feathers, so you better go ahead and tell the rest. You go on and tell ‘em that the new Knight of Hell is coming for ‘em,” he pushes Castiel’s limp form towards Sam. There are no words, from either of them, Castiel because he has nothing left in him to fight; and the… _demon_ because he knows he has won.

Castiel grabs Sam and hauls the unconscious hunter to his feet. He can’t talk Dean into another conversation, he is well aware of that, therefore all he can do is regroup and think of a solution to get his human back. He stares at the ground as he thinks about something to say, one thing that might help Dean find himself back to his humanity, _back to Cas_ , but there is nothing. He just turns around and looks at him, standing in that dirty alley looking as beautiful as always and holding that wretched blade. Castiel knows he has tears in his eyes as he says his next piece, but he has nothing more to fight them for. “I love you, Dean Winchester. And I have from the first moment I saw your soul in Hell. This is _not_ you and I will find a way to pull you from perdition once more.”

He looks at him and at first sees no effect on the demon, he still has that cruel smirk on his face but it seems to be more mocking now. So he stretches his wings, and is about to bolt, when Dean’s hand relaxes and the blade drops. “ _Cas_ ,” and Castiel stumbles forward, wanting to grab him and hold that little piece of _Dean_ between his fingers. That was him, _that was his human_ , that was one hundred percent Dean Winchester and Cas weeps of joy.

It is short lived, as Dean stumbles forward and falls to his knees. Castiel can’t go closer as he is still holding Sam, but oh God he wants to. Dean falls onto his hands and knees, and coughs up blood. He looks up at Cas, and there is sorrow and pain in his still-green eyes, before he hacks up another lungful of blood. “O-october th-thirr-thirty,” he whispers between broken lungfuls of air. “R-right be-bef-before Samhain, C-crowley and the d-d-demons, they will rise.”

Castiel is paralyzed as Dean drops down on all fours again, but he has more information than he did before. He wants to ask him so many questions, wants to ask him how to turn him back, but Dean raises his head again and he knows he’s out of time. “Oh, little angel, now I have to kill you,” but Castiel is already gone.

***************

It is not hard to pinpoint the location of Crowley’s spell; their nests all seemed to center around one spot in the town after all. So on October twenty-ninth, they all prepare for battle. The other angels know that nobody gets to harm Dean Winchester, no matter what he is, Sam and Castiel will turn him back.

It is a pleasant October night when they move onto the cemetery, there is barely any autumn chill in the air as they trudge through the crypts. By mutual agreement, Sam and Castiel are not heavily arm. Sam has his demon knife and the colt, Castiel has his angel blade and what is left of his borrowed grace. Nobody knows that his true plan, his real weapon, is concealed in a glass vial hanging from his neck. If all else, Castiel’s last act will be to save Dean Winchester’s life with his essence. He has lost the brand he put in the human, but now he will be able to leave a more permanent mark if he is to have a more permanent absence. Quite fitting, too, as Metatron has spoken nothing but truth. It has all been for Dean Winchester.

***********

There is no big battle for them, truth be told, it seems as if everything has been taken care of for them. They turn up to discover that it is only Dean there, with the ingredients for the spell and the demon tablet held securely in his hands. His eyes are a vibrant green and Cas feels more than sees Sam stumble when he sees them. They had both been expecting inky black. Castiel places a hand in Sam’s chest to keep him back, protected from whatever Dean might do because he will turn Dean back and when he does, he does not want his human to have more guilt than he already will. So he keeps Sam back and approaches Dean at the most sedate pace he can muster.

“Where is Crowley?” For all they know this could be a trap, so he tightens the grip on his blade and gets closer to the demon.

Dean opens his mouth as if about to reply, but he is interrupted by the King of Hell himself. “Sadly, it seems as if I have been double crossed again. Can’t trust these dogs, nowadays,” he flicks his wrist and the tablet drops away from Dean. “Now, boy, do what you are meant to do and _obey me!”_ Castiel turns around in time to see Dean’s eyes go pitch black. He pulls the first blade from his pocket and gets closer to Castiel.

“Dean, stop! This isn’t you! Please, Dean, wake up!” Castiel can’t keep him from grabbing his arm and twisting it around to his back, then placing the first blade against the angel’s throat.

“Now, boy, end this and all of Heaven and Hell is yours,” Crowley is so focused on Dean that he doesn’t notice the other angels around them. Castiel bets he knows they are there, but he doesn’t know of the spell they had planned to keep him locked in place. He is about to start chanting the enochian words, even if it costs him his life, but he is beaten to it by Dean. He begins to recite the words they all know by heart backwards, successfully trapping Crowley into his vessel.

“You forgot that I am a Knight of Hell, I command more power than you ever could, Crowley,” Dean tells him and he begins to let go of Castiel.

“And you forget that I own you, _dog_ , and I command you to kill. The. Angel. Now!” When Dean hesitates, all hell literally breaks lose around them. The angels break from the shadows while Crowley’s demons charge into battle. The sky turns a dark crimson, and Castiel fears the will unbalance the world more than even Michael and Lucifer could but he is not concerned about that as he is pushed forth so suddenly that he almost falls on his face.

Dean is behind him, on all fours again, while he breathes heavily. The first blade is still trapped in his hand and he doesn’t seem to be letting go any time soon. He turns quickly to make sure Sam is okay, but he is protected by the angels so he give his sole attention back to Dean. His human is looking up at him and his struggle is plain in his eyes, one of them is green while the other remains black. He tries to get up, stumbles, but Castiel is there to grip him and keep him on his feet.

“You have to kill me,” Dean is breathing hard puffs against his neck, and his grip is painful, but despite all of that he still remains Dean.

“No, never, I will not hurt you, Dean,” He drags him away from the fray. To where his preparations for the spell are, and lays him down to lean against a tombstone. He can’t help but think that at some point one, or both, of them will be laid down beneath that dirt.

“I can’t control this, Cas, not for long. You have to-to help me finish the spell, close the gates, and then kill me. You have to, p-please Cas,” they are both crying now. Neither of them can help it, and neither tries to hide it; they have come too far to censure themselves now. Castiel says nothing but complies with his request about the spell, they go about it clinically as if they are not about to decide the faith of all three races as they seal the spell.

“Grab my hand,” Dean tells him, and Castiel believes it is for support so he moves towards the hand not holding the blade. “Not that one, the one with the blade,” Dean tells him through gritted teeth. Castiel complies hesitantly and then brushes his fingers over his human’s battered knuckles. “Blood of a Knight, Cas, you gotta cut over the mark. Use my hand, slice the blade over it,” Castiel thoughtlessly complies and they begin chanting the spell. The angel follows his charge’s lead as always.

“You _fool_ what have you done!” Crowley’s voice carries over to them before the sky breaks out in thunder and the demons begin to leave their vessels in wispy tendrils of dark smoke. There is bright flash beside him, and the angel averts his eyes. Castiel stares up into the sky, unable to believe what is happening as the red begins to change into black and the angels drop from exhaustion. He can hear murmured prayers as he looks over his brothers and sisters, hands still holding Dean’s, until he hears Sam’s scream.

“ _Dean!”_ Sam starts running towards them and Castiel turns to look at his charge.

Dean is slumped against the headstone, body limp, and the wound that Castiel inflicted is still oozing blood. _It’s not stopping_ , Castiel thinks stupidly, _why isn’t it stopping, it’s supposed to stop. He’s a knight, nothing—just the mark,_ Castiel stares down in horror at what he has done. In his haste to end the war with Hell he had sealed Dean’s fate.

The hunter’s eyes are no longer mismatched; they are now a dulling green as he gives him a quivering smile. Castiel cradles his face and tries not to cry, not in front of him, not after he has given so much. “Cas,” and his voice, so _Dean_ , finally breaks the angel out of his stupor.

He launches forward and buries his face in the human’s neck. “I’m sorry, why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me it would kill you? Damn you, Dean, damn you!” Dean’s hand tightens in his and Castiel pulls away.

“You wouldn’t have let me go,” he tells him with a sad smile. Then his eyes go over Cas’s shoulders and his tears start to come down faster. “Sammy,” he says in a broken voice and Cas feels the younger Winchester drop to his knees on the other side of Dean.

“You can’t do this, you bastard, you can’t leave me.”

“’M sorry Sammy, I was just livin’ on borrowed time,” he tries to smile at them but it comes out as more of a painful grimace. “Take care of ‘im, Cas,” Dean tells him and his eyes begin to get glassy. Castiel hears Sam’s breathe hitch beside him, but he is unable to move.

It is a hesitation he will live to regret.

****************

Dean knows for a fact that he isn’t dead, he knows because he’s pretty sure Hell doesn’t smell like cinnamon and apples and condemned souls don’t sleep on memory foam mattresses. In case this is some kind of reprieve from the torture, or just another beginning of it, he decides to lay there and enjoy it for the few precious seconds he will get. He sighs and tries to blend into the mattress, and that is when he feels the fingers carting through his hair. His eyes snap open and he is immediately met with blue. Warm, brimmed with tears blue.

“Hello, Dean,” his angel tells him, and his voice is rough with repressed sobs.

“Angel,” Dean responds, and he knows his voice is laced with child wonder but he can’t help it. none of the futures he had thought for himself had included keeping his angel. He becomes suspicious at once and tries to get up. Cas pushes him down and tilts his head to the side in worry. “What did you do? Why am I not dead?”

“Dean, calm down,” Cas tells him steadily. Dean stops struggling at once. “I healed you,” he holds up a hand when Dean opens his mouth to question him. “When we captured Metatron, I recuperated my grace. I neglected to take it back because I assumed I would have a bigger use for it. When you” Castiel’s voice cracks and Dean immediately grabs his hand; Cas squeezes it and continues in a broken whisper. “When you died, I took my grace into my body. Hannah assisted us in taking some of it from me and passing it onto you. Destroying the Mark with the first blade, you knew it would break the curse didn’t you?”

“Kind of,” Dean tells him, still playing with the angel’s fingers. “The tablet said that I needed to… betray my kin, and when I became… that, I figured demons became my kin. By helping you seal the gates, I figured I was honoring that clause and the Mark could be destroyed.” He looks up at the angel sheepishly, afraid he will turn from him at the reminder of the monster he had become, but he only finds pride and love in those gorgeous blue eyes. Dean clears his throat and looks back at their joined hands. “If you gave me your grace, are you—are you human now?”

“Not completely, I retained some of my angelic powers but not all. I am afraid I cannot fly as I used to and my smiting powers are need-to-use only,” Cas grins down at their hands.

“So what are you going to do? Now that you’re stuck with us mere mortals?” Dean asks him, hoping with all his being that the angel has stayed for him. that he would continue to stay with him.

“I was—I was told there was a room available,” Cas says, and his cheeks burn bright red. Dean should not find it as endearing as he does but he can’t help me. He grins like a lunatic and pulls Cas down next to him. he tucks the angel under his chin and brings him close. “Dean?”

“My room is totally available for you, Cas,” Dean tells him and closes his eyes in contentment. He grins as he feels Castiel’s warm cheeks resting on his neck and the puffs of breath as the angel chuckles. He’s starting to drift off when he remembers. “Sammy,” he gasps and tries to get up again.

Cas pats his chest and leads him through breathing again. “He is fine, Dean, he is making you soup as we speak. You shall rest now, as I look over you, and you will be able to see him later. Now, sleep” Cas tells him and Dean grumbles about bossy angels but closes his eyes obediently. “Dean?” Cas says after a while.

“What, Cas, you told me to sleep,” Dean mock grumbles and it earns him a pat on his stomach; he grins.

“I love you,” Cas mumbles.

Dean swallows thickly and brings the angel closer. “I love you too, angel. _My_ angel, and I don’t deserve you but I am glad you think so.”

“Dean Winchester, you are my soul and my grace and my heart,” Cas buries his head under Dean’s chin again to allow him to pretend he is not crying. “And you are my salvation. Now, sleep, Sam and I will be here when you wake up. You are safe.”

And for once, Dean knows that he is. They all are.

**Author's Note:**

> Too soon?


End file.
